Whatever's Left
by onesieandacalendar
Summary: Addison goes to the bar at the end of 2x18.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I really wasn't planning on writing anything… but this just sort of came to me, and once I started to think about it I couldn't stop. I have a pretty decent idea on where this story is going to go. Be ready for a lot of angst. There are a lot of things these two have to work through if they ever want a real chance.

Disclaimer: I always feel so stupid writing these, obviously if I owned any aspect of this show or its characters I wouldn't be wasting my time doing this. I would have a lot of money. The end.

* * *

_I don't mind where you come from, as long as you come to me_

_I don't care, no I wouldn't dare, to fix the twist in you_

When she first walks into the bar, she actually considers turning around and leaving before he sees her, but the son of a bitch just had to be watching. Sighing, she walks over and takes the seat next to him. She's a little agitated, and he can sense it, and she knows he can sense it, so she tries to pass it off. "You know, someone could see us."

"It didn't take me any longer than an hour to realize how quickly word moves around in that hospital, and judging from its proximity, I'd say a fair amount of the hospital employees are here right now, watching us, so I think it's safe to say that if you were trying to hide me, you would've picked a different place." He shrugs, seemingly unaffected by his accusation, "which leads me to believe that you want people to see us. Things must be worse than I originally thought. Trying to make him jealous by hanging around the guy you cheated with, that's really classy, Ad. I applaud you."

"It's just a drink, Mark." Well, shit. She sounded a lot less confident than she meant to.

"It's never just a drink, just like it was never just sex, never just one night, never just because you felt so fucking sad that you needed comfort." The last part comes out too fast, and if he were trying to add it in there nonchalantly he clearly failed. He really should stop drinking. He's being too honest for his liking.

"Maybe this was a mistake." She says it like she's about to get up, but she doesn't move. She won't move, because even if all this is going to turn into is a fight it's a hell of a lot more satisfying than the silence she'll be faced with at home.

"I'm sorry; I don't know why I got so angry." Except he does, but he also knows damn well that this could be the last time he ever sees her, and if that's the case then he'd much rather spend the time memorizing every beautifully damaged part of her.

She sighs and allows her head to fall forward and meet her hands that are resting on the bar counter, this is all so frustrating, so unbelievably confusing, and yet every part of her is clinging to the moment dreading the time where (she knows) it will end.

"What are we doing, Mark?" It's the age old question, and she's aware that she's probably asked him the same thing hundreds of times over the years. It seems redundant, but really, she doesn't know. She didn't know what they were doing when they were flirting in med school, or when he started spending more time with her than her own husband cared to, and she sure as hell didn't know what they were doing when they were sleeping together. God damn this man. God damn his infuriating uncertainty.

She may have asked the question before, but she's sure she never got this answer, even if it had been forever implied, "Whatever you want us to do, Addison", and it almost sounds like he's mocking her, possibly (probably) for always calling the shots when it came to them, and usually (always) leading them to disaster.

And she'll admit, it was nice to be able to control something in her life. Her life with Derek was over before it ever really started and despite her best efforts she couldn't fix it. In the early years, having Mark around was like selfishly hoarding the remote while not even watching the t.v., but as Derek got more distant Mark got more present and all of the sudden the channels were more appealing.

The beautiful irony to all of it is that she achieved every pathetic goal she made with regards to her absent husband. She got Derek's attention, she got Derek to not spend so much time at the hospital (granted-her goal hadn't been to get him to stop working at the hospital by sending him across the country), but most importantly, she got Derek to show some form of human emotion. Four years since the last time she saw him show anything besides indifference, so really, she thinks, anger wasn't that bad.

He breaks her out of her trance when he says "I think I'm supposed to hate you. Or I think you're supposed to hate me, but I'm definitely supposed to hate you."

It probably wouldn't make sense to anyone else but she just nods, she accepts it, she was a bitch but he was a cheater but she cheated with him first and really they could play the blame game for hours but she's just to fucking exhausted for this, "Nothing turned out the way it was supposed to. Do you understand how upsetting it is to know that you wasted an entire third of your life?"

"I realize it sucks, but do you actually think that whatever you're doing here is helping? You're just pushing him to resent you even more, and honestly, Addison, it's pathetic. Grow a back bone." Okay, so it was a little harsh, but so is the scotch that's trickling down his throat and that at least seems to be helping. Besides, she wouldn't expect anything else. In fact, she'd be lying if she didn't admit that one of the reasons she actually met him at the bar was to hear someone be brutally honest with her.

"My self esteem is fine, Mark. I think this has a lot more to do with not being able to let things go."

Her self esteem was obviously not fine, and it hadn't been even since the day that he met her. To her credit, she did admit to one personal fault so he decides he'll let it slide.

"You let me go."

That's different, she thinks. Except it really isn't, and she really didn't let him go, and she still has that fucking Yankees onesie stuffed in a bag of her clothes that she never really bothered to unpack.

And suddenly it all feels a little too close for comfort; a little too personal and so Addison decides to use the only deflection that comes almost as natural to her as surgery. "Your hotel near here?" She prompts, knowing he'll understand.

If it wasn't for the fact that he was so desperate for any moment he could possibly have for her, he would've said no. He is a little angry that she's making this about sex. It's true that it's the only thing they know how to do right, but that's probably because nothing beyond that was ever really given a chance.

He extends a hand, and she takes it eagerly, ready for the distraction, ready for a night where she can finally just escape all of the shit that she's trying to make sense of.

For now, she doesn't care about the consequences. For now, the familiar touch of a man she spent years hating, avoiding, maybe even loving, was all that she needed to feel comfortable.

_Go ahead and tell me you'll leave again_

_You'll just come back running _

_Holding your scarred heart in hand, it's all the same_

_And I'll take you for who you are, if you take me for everything_


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Not the longest, but bare with me, this is basically just the chapter that is setting up the direction of the rest of the story.

* * *

_Would you believe me if I said I didn't need you  
'cause I wouldn't believe if you said the same to me_

Addison is woken up by the sun as it starts to peak in through the window of the tenth story hotel room, and it only takes a few seconds before the memory of the night before hits her. She's being held tightly to Mark's right side with his arm, and she knows from experience that it's not easy to release herself from his grip. She sighs when she realizes that there isn't any possible way to get out of bed, dressed, and out the door without him seeing her. She considers waiting for him to wake up, but instead-

"-Ow! Addison, what the hell?"

"Sorry." Okay, so slapping him as hard as she possibly could in the chest probably wasn't the nicest way she could've woke him up. But it served the purpose.

"You couldn't lightly tap my shoulders or something? God. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"Or the wrong bed entirely." She glares at him.

He sighs, he wasn't expecting her to be in a great mood in the morning, in fact he actually thought he'd wake up to her yelling and throwing his stuff across the room as she had done before when he upset her. "Would you like some breakfast, honey?" He asks sarcastically, pulling her closer in the process.

She stays nestled up on him for a second before pushing his arms off of her and sitting up in the bed. "No. Absolutely not. There will be no breakfast. There will also be no talking. Starting now."

"Addison, really, I think some blueberry pancakes might make you feel better. I'll even get you an extra order of bacon and the orange juice with the extra pulp."

"I said no talking." She gets up, not bothering to take the sheet with her to cover herself. She walks around the room and one by one picks up her scattered clothes. After she dresses herself, she walks into the bathroom and tries to salvage her hair, and puts on the mascara and lip gloss that she had placed in her purse the night before. Before walking back into the room she takes a second to look at herself in the mirror. If it wasn't for all of the days she had to get up and go to work after sleeping with Mark back in New York, she would be panicking about facing Derek right now. They had been sleeping together for almost five months before the night that Derek had caught them, hell, even Amelia knew. The fact that it took her husband to notice what, quite frankly, was a sloppy affair, didn't sit well with her. She didn't even bother to hide it, she would leave his stuff sitting around her room, she would tell Derek about the great movie Mark showed her and the exquisite pasta dish her cooked for her afterword. Either Derek just didn't care, or he was never actually listening.

She's done the awkward next morning thing with Mark before, and so she doesn't feel bad for disappearing into the bathroom for twenty minutes. She also doesn't feel bad for not addressing the situation, talking was never something they were good at.

She walks back into the main area of the hotel room and picks up her phone from the bedside table. After quickly double checking that she has everything that she brought here, she starts making her way towards the door but stops and tries to sound as casual as possible when she asks "What time is your flight?"

He wants to say he isn't leaving. He wants to say that she doesn't want him to leave. He wants to say anything he could to ensure that this won't be the last time he sees her. He wants to do something. Arguing with her seems pointless, yelling at her seems dangerous, and doing nothing seems painful.

Still, he picks the pain. He always will.

"Eleven thirty." He lies, and Mark thinks that she might actually know that he's lying but if she does she doesn't care because all she says is "okay" and opens the door to walk out.

When it shuts, the lock makes a loud clicking noise. Mark stays in bed with his arm around the spot that she had spent the last seven hours lying in.

* * *

It's almost one thirty and Addison has yet to see Derek, she quickly decided that today would not be a day she'd spend focusing heavily on work and instead she is spending a little (a lot) more time than usual filling out charts at the nurse's station. Usually, Addison would bury herself in her job in order to avoid her personal problems but she decided that as long as she doesn't see either of them then there is nothing to avoid. It's sad that her life has come to the point where she can except that she's what could only be considered a cheating whore, but she isn't the only person at fault here. _We all made mistakes, Addison._

Really, if anyone asked her, she could pinpoint the exact moment in her life when everything went wrong. Freshman year of medical school, the first day of her biochemistry class, she walked in three minutes late and was forced to take the only open seat next to buff man with dirty blonde hair and a suggestive grin. At first, she hated him. Actually, she hated him for a while, but eventually she warmed up to his charm and got used to his innuendos. After a little over four months of being friends, Mark introduced Addison to Derek, who was transferring in for the second semester.

It's odd to think that if her alarm had gone off that morning like it was supposed to, she never would've had to sit next to Mark. There were enough people in their biochemistry class that if they weren't seated next to each other they probably would've never even crossed paths. Just one tiny screw up of a morning, and it ended up setting the path that the rest of her life would follow.

Addison is brought back to reality when one of the men that she's desperately trying to avoid approaches her.

"You didn't come home last night." Derek states as he flips through the chart that a nurse behind the counter handed him.

"I had a patient, had to perform an emergency c-section for triplets." She says, knowing he won't question whatever pathetic excuse she gives him.

"Okay. Well, I've got to run, but I'll see you later." He places a kiss on her cheek and she actually cringes at the touch. Watching as he walks away, she puts her head down into her hands and sighs. The forced nature of their marriage disgusts her. She hates knowing that people are watching. The whole hospital knows that Derek doesn't want to be a part of this marriage anymore. It's almost humiliating enough for her to leave, but Addison never backs down from a fight.

She picks her head out of her hands and goes to put all of the charts she spent almost an hour filling out away. Out of the corner of her eye she catches an all too familiar grin. Great, she thinks. She knows why he's here. Mark Sloan doesn't want to fuck around, at least not when it comes to her. She's not sure if she's angry or thankful that he's here, possibly saving her from a loveless marriage and an open emotional affair between her husband and his intern, but her suspicions are confirmed when her pulls a freshly embroidered lab coat over his shoulders. He notices her staring and makes his way over to where she's standing, walking past her, he only stops for a second to whisper "I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
